


March of Time

by ASiriusAuthor (KkGgINoU)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: Rebels, Star Wars: Thrawn Series - Timothy Zahn (2017)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-25
Updated: 2018-12-25
Packaged: 2019-09-26 17:29:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,078
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17145992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KkGgINoU/pseuds/ASiriusAuthor
Summary: Nineteen days after the destruction of the Death Star, Grand Admiral Thrawn receives word of the incident from deep in the Unknown Regions.





	March of Time

_0ABY 19 standard days, 0528 hours_

Thrawn gazed intently at the newsfeed. Quite a surprise, to see the flames of a thousand systems roar to life in outrage… then dim once more to an idle flicker. He supposed that was the way of things, memories and opinions were often acutely malleable by bread and circuses.

He gazed for a moment at the chronometer on his wall as it flicked its thin hand each second around the face.

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

Time. Such a fickle creature, was it not?

Every man, beast and machine was only allotted so much of it. Eventually a man will grow old and die. Eventually a machine will run down and cease. It is a law of existence, and it is the way of things.

"Time takes us all in the end," he said aloud to no one in particular. Possibly it was a rather frank  _I did tell you, but did you listen?_  in the direction of the Core Worlds.

All the same, Time always passes so quickly. Life is so fleeting. For such a precious commodity, many seemed to have a talent for  _wasting_  it.

Thrawn shifted his gaze from the chronometer, and turned to look out his window into the specked black of space.

The massive pieces of wreckage that were depicted on the newsfeed were such a testament to wastefulness. It was a waste of resources, a waste of time, and even worse—a waste of men.

Thrawn's face settled from neutral into a dissatisfied glower at the mere thought of all those troops, unsuspecting and just trying to do their jobs…. Only to be instantly silenced with a mere two torpedoes. One man's error, compounded by continuous arrogance and refusal to correct it, and finally taken advantage of until the project that the Empire had worked on for so long—likely since before Thrawn arrived in common space—was  _debris_  resting at idle velocity around the Yavin star.

Thrawn resisted the urge to allow his lip to curl in a sneer at the thought.

It was a blatant waste—and something that he would never have allowed. Of course,  _he_  would never have bothered to command such a station anyways. Historically, superweapons almost always found themselves in the crosshairs of resourceful underdogs who, through some means, through some dismissal and blunder, always managed to get the upper hand.

Quite simply, this station, for however threatening it may seem, it wasn't worth its cost. Years of work, hundreds of thousands of tons of building materials, and millions of crewmembers… All gone in the blink of an eye. And what had the Empire to show for all of its trouble? Based on the newsfeed, nothing. One genocide of innocents, and a nightmare of  _ironically fitting proportions_  now that the station was destroyed.

He would not be one to brag (Do your job until the finish and allow the historians to laud your victory after the fact) but the TIE Defenders would have been a far superior project to this Death Star. They were more versatile in practice, and in the hands of capable pilots, very difficult to destroy. They would have made an excellent addition to the fleet, if their commanders made  _proper_  use of their resource, of course.

But no, it was the Death Star. An instrument of terror and, if terror and not actual usefulness was the only thing you cared about, it performed its function quite well. After all, despite the fact that such an event was distinctly less frightening than an instantaneous superlaser, a handful of Star Destroyers could essentially do the same thing with their turbolasers, turning an entire world into the equivalent of Mustafar in a matter of days. And at the Kuat shipyards' full capacity, it took less than five years at most to build a Star Destroyer, rather than the twenty spent on the Death Star.

Most of the authority in the Empire seemed to believe that they were so superior for their ingenuity in creating the monstrous battle station.

Meanwhile, Palpatine and Vader thought of themselves as gods, so superior for their Second Sight and other honed abilities. The Force was a  _gift_. To be accepted, and then used to the best of one's ability, not manipulated. Not, certainly, to be used to elevate one to godhood.

"Now look how they flounder about, with their terrible toys," he mused in a whisper, half to himself as he looked out at the mesmerising stars. He smiled at the milky band of stars that indicated the Core.

When Thrawn was still but a youth in his First Father's home, he had read from the writings of a believed-crazed philosopher who studied the nature of the Third Sight that, while it was indeed regrettable that the Sky-Walkers lost their abilities as they grew into adulthood, it was equally as much an advantageous thing. For in the core there were those who maintained their ability well into adulthood, and as per usual, they abused that gift, using it to become fearsome warriors and slay one another in battles that raged in the Core. A pointless, dreadful waste Thrawn had quickly decided.

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

...

_~~Blast windows closing… Blast windows sealed.~~_

_Thrawn holstered his weapon and rubbed his gun wrist gingerly. The skin had already started chafing from being gripped by the rough scaly appendages, he noted with some frustration. Being seized by a mass of writhing, hyperspace-capable tentacles was rising very rapidly on his shortlist of most unpleasant things that had ever happened to him, just below being shot in the chest, and just above being bent over and encased in stone that one time with Vader. Luckily the purrgil retreated from the bridge as the windows closed, but the ship was clearly still in Hyperspace. Based on their previous bearing, they were headed towards the Unknown Regions._

_He gazed intently at Ezra, who seemed presently at a bit of a loss. They were alone for the moment. In a matter of minutes the Stormtroopers would cut through the blast doors to the bridge and come for Ezra but presently that situation was… well. The past was set in stone but the future was always malleable by those who wield the proper instruments._

_Thrawn glanced back to Ezra and gave him a regarding smile. "Clever," he said simply. "A risk, but clever." He turned back to face the blast windows. "I should be thanking you, I suppose."_

_"Why." Ezra's voice sounded nothing if not accusatory. Understandable, but entirely unnecessary._

_"Once more I shall gaze upon the stars that I watched when I was but a youth."_

_"You've been robbed of your prize, Admiral. Lothal is safe."_

_"For the time being. I was but one small cog in a great machine, and if you believe that this does anything more than delay the inevitable, I assure you, the Emperor will no doubt see fit to prove you wrong." Thrawn exhaled slowly and turned, starting back through the bridge towards the blast doors._

_Ezra frowned. "What I don't understand is why. Sure, you believe that power is the most important thing, but the Emperor would have killed you before you got anywhere or did anything."_

_Thrawn looked at Ezra, then back to the doors. "You understand so very little… I am loyal to a cause that I chose. I am loyal to the Empire because it is my duty."_

_Ezra made a sound that could only be described as a verbal rolling of eyes. "Your duty? If you weren't a tactical genius who appealed to the Emperor, the Tarkin Initiative would have barred you from the Imperial Navy entirely," he spat._

_"I never said that the cause was necessarily the Empire. After all, at times the goals of differing factions can cross and blend until they are almost inextricably intertwined."_

_There was a distinct sound of cutting from the other side of the blast door._

_"I am a high ranking officer of the Chiss Ascendancy," Thrawn continued. "In the Ascendancy's desire to learn more about the Empire, I was charged to enter into the Empire and lend my resources to it. I am loyal to the Chiss Ascendancy, as they are my cause, and I am loyal to the Empire, as it is my duty to my cause. Eventually I had hoped to turn the Empire into an ally of the Chiss Ascendancy… Now, however, that seems unlikely to happen."_

_Ezra made a face. "But the Empire, it's evil, surely you see that!"_

_Thrawn shook his head for a moment. "There is no 'good' or 'evil'. There is no morality. There are only those who are living after the dust settles and those who are not, which is why we must never waste our chances when they appear to us."_

_The blast door finally heaved way, though it opened only a sliver. "Admiral, this is the Emergency Service crew. Are you alright," came a trooper's voice from the other side._

_"I am presently unharmed, thank you trooper," Thrawn called to the person on the other side of the door. "This is not a hostage situation for the moment."_

_"Understood, sir."_

_"How do you know that." Ezra said, as he changed his stance and his voice feigned aggression._

_Thrawn turned to face the young man. "Especially considering that our former rivalry means virtually nothing to me here, I do not see it fitting for my troopers to slaughter you the second that they come through the door, and trust me, they would have… Mister Bridger, I am not in the habit of killing children when I can avoid it."_

_Ezra paused once more, seemingly more confused than ever as Thrawn turned back to the blast door._

_"Estimated time until you are through," Thrawn called to the service team._

_"We'll have you both out right away, sir. A minute and a half, tops."_

_Thrawn stayed at the door. "Thank you. Trooper, protocols sealed the bridge off entirely from all ships functions when the purrgil breached; is the communications array still functional?"_

_"Yessir, the communications array is intact."_

_"Excellent."_

_"Shall we contact Imperial forces for aid, sir?"_

_"No. Not yet. We shall send word to the Chiss Ascendancy of our predicament. I am certain they will allow us a place to resupply and make repairs."_

_"Yessir."_

_Ezra looked at him quizzically. "You're not contacting the Empire?... and your men don't ask questions?"_

_Thrawn continued standing at the blast door, not bothering to turn. "Of course they ask questions; I encourage that. But they also know to trust me, and I know to trust them. Personal loyalty of subordinates is the greatest resource a military leader can have… Something else you will learn eventually."_

_The blast doors opened, but Thrawn waved the troopers with stun blasters to stand down._

_"Not all of your opponents are necessarily enemies, Mister Bridger. Welcome to the Unknown Regions."_

_…_

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

Thrawn turned back to the newsfeed. It was still cued to the same holoreport. Yavin was a failure of the Empire—and a costly failure at that. The Empire continued to slowly tear itself apart with arrogance, mistakes, and petty dealings. The fact that Thrawn had since been reassigned by the Emperor to expand holdings in the Unknown Regions (read: brushed aside) was a moot point. The destruction of the Death Star was a certain warning sign that Time was coming for the Empire as it marched ever onward.

He scrolled down and looked at the picture of the Emperor, who had this time opted to reveal his scars from the clone wars. Vader stood beside him. Time would come for them, as well. All things die eventually, even gods. Even Death Stars. Sith Lords. Thrawn turned his hand over to gaze pensively at his right wrist. Even himself, he thought as he smiled gently at the irony of it all.

But not yet. There was still the Nuso Esva matter to be dealt with at present. Thrawn's own house had to be put in order before he meddled too far into the affairs of the Core. In the meantime, he would keep tabs on the dealings of the Empire from a distance.

_Tick_

_Tick_

_Tick_

Thrawn stood. 0530 hours. It was time to begin the new day. A new day of tracking Esva, and attempting to flush him out.

Time would march forward, and Thrawn would march with it until it left him behind.

**Author's Note:**

> Admittedly this started as an audition for Thrawn in a Roleplay Forum. I am half tempted to make this into a series. Well. We'll see. At any rate, a Happy Christmas from SiriusCreations.


End file.
